We're not broken, just bent
by StarryDreamer01
Summary: It's written in the scars on Sam Swarek's heart.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** This one is going to be a muli-chapter fic. While I'm going against my general practice of writing the whole story first, I'm feeling good about an eventual endgame for this one. It's rated M for mature/violent themes that will be mentioned and alluded to over the course of the next few chapters.

There was also an error in the original mail out. The email was sent saying that it was a Sam-only fic. In fact it will be a Sam/Andy fic. I've changed that it in the settings now, but wanted to make a note of it in case you saw the mail out.

* * *

-Prologue-

The package is difficult to open. He grabs a pair of his mother's sewing scissors and carefully runs the blade along the edge. He moves slowly, not wanting to damage the contents inside. The packaging relents and he peels back the brown paper revealing a magic kit. He smiles and turns the box over, getting a closer look at the possibilities that lay inside.

_July 15__th__ is turning out to be the best day,_ he thinks to himself. When his father had said he'd love a good magic trick, he'd instantly begged his mother for the kit. She'd said no.

"We don't have money for games what with your dad back and nobody willing to hire him," she explains, sorrily.

While his mother is filling out an order at the Eaton's catalogue counter a week later, he tries one last ditch effort. "Sarah would probably love it." He knows his older sister is his mother's weakness. "She could be my assistant. I'd make her wear the hat." And that seals the deal. She hands him a 3-ply order form and he prints in his neatest block lettering his name and address. He double checks the product number in the thick catalogue and hands it to the man at the counter.

"You should get it by July 15th," the clerk says, handing him a pink copy of his order. "If not, call that 1-800 number on the bottom there."

He never had to call, the kit arrives as promised, on time. His mother swears it's a first for Canada Post and pats him on the head and tells him she's going to go to Mrs. Havish's house for a while.

"Your dad's in the basement fixing the water heater. Keep an eye on Sarah, will ya?" He agrees, barely lifting his head as he pulls the plastic wrap off of a deck of cards. The door closes and he wonders if he should lock it behind her.

His thoughts are interrupted by his sister. "I'm gonna grab a pop from the basement. Want one?" She asks, pushing a curly dark tendril from her face. She narrows her eyes and leans over him. "Is that a magic kit?" When he nods his head, she throws her head back and laughs. "You're such a nerd sometimes, Sammy."

Sam looks up from the floor where he's sitting and registers briefly that this is the first time he's heard her laugh in over a month. He thinks it's worth the mocking and offers a smile. "I may be a nerd, but I'll be a talented and good looking nerd." He knows it's a weak rebuttal, but at thirteen, it's all he can think of. He shuffles the cards and fans them out. "Pick a card?"

She laughs again and shakes her head, opening the door to the basement. "Still a nerd!"

"Grab me a coke, while you're down there," he says, turning back to the mess of magic games now spread out on the coffee table.

He's examining the three rings and trying to figure out how he'll separate them when he hears the scream. It's a blood curdling scream, one that shakes the bones. Years later the scream will haunt him in his sleep, but now it sends him to his feet and down the basement stairs; his heart in his throat.

What he sees first is a can of coke at Sarah's feet, dark brown liquid spraying against her legs. He stares at her, her hands clasped against her face, fingers shaking. He flips the light on and finally sees what Sarah sees.

He thinks it's an hour later—it certainly feels like an hour— when a police officer leads him into the back of a squad car. It's then that a tall figure leans over and gently lifts Sam's right hand which is fisted and clutching something. The officer nods slowly and taps Sam's knuckle. In a whispered voice, the officer says, "it's okay." It's not, but Sam releases his fist and his mother's sewing scissors drop into the officer's extended hand.

The officer tries to be discreet, he turns his back and moves toward the rear of the car. But Sam sees him put the scissors in an evidence bag and pass it to another officer.

The door to the car is still open and he inches out, looking for his sister. He spots her being led into an ambulance; a female officer has a grip on her arm. Even from a distance he can see the stains of mascara lining her face. He wonders vaguely if they're going to take her to CAM-H or to a real hospital like the last time.

"Poor kid," he hears someone say and he turns. It's his neighbours. He thinks they're talking about Sarah; they've certainly seen their fair share of ambulances where she's concerned. Seconds later, he realizes they mean him when he hears: "The cops say he tried to save him. Cut him down and everything…"

He wants to hear more, wants to remember what he's already forgotten, but an officer leans into the car and says something. He's not sure what, but he nods just the same. The door closes, sealing him in the backseat.

As the squad car pulls out of the driveway, he has two thoughts. The first is that he hates magic tricks and the second is that July 15th is a very bad day.

_..To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 1

Thank you to those of you who are following this story, I hope you enjoy the ride. There's still more to come! Reviews are much appreciated.

* * *

-1-

Andy looks at the assignment board and sees she's riding alone. It doesn't happen often, but it's the summer and many of the officers at 15 Division have started to use their vacation days. She's thankful to have a silent car for once, having had to share a car with Marlo Cruz for the past week.

She shakes her head at the thought. Her ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend. In the same car as her for a week. It was torture keeping up appearances, but Cruz is Peck's problem today. When she hears Gail groan beside her, Andy pushes down the desire to laugh at her friend. They're meeting at the Penny after work, she'll have plenty of time to laugh at her expense then.

"Swarek's away?" Andy hears Traci ask Frank. "We were supposed to go over the Milligan case. We're going to tie up the loose ends."

Andy lifts her bag on to her shoulder and tries to avoid looking like she's listening.

"He's taking a personal day," Frank replies, his voice hinting that the conversation is over.

Traci furrows her brows. "But— the Milligan case…?"

"It'll have to wait." He pushes a folder under his arm and grabs his coffee, leaving Traci behind, standing puzzled at his podium.

Andy leans against the doorframe. It's not like Sam to tell Traci one thing and then not show up. She moves to question Traci but a hand reaches out and takes hold of her arm.

She turns and looks up at the figure before her. Oliver shakes his head and warns her off.

His voice is calm and knowing. "You know what today is, right? July 15th."

Andy exhales, unaware that she's been holding her breath. "Shit."

...

_The screams echo in his mind. He hears the thump of his feet, racing up the basement stairs. He sees his hand grabbing at the scissors, they are where he left them, next to the discarded parcel paper. Sarah's still screaming. It's horrifying and terrible and sounds like something you would only hear in a movie. _

_He thunders back down the stairs and screams at her to call 9-1-1. She doesn't move. She's rooted in place and he doesn't have time to make her listen. He climbs the ladder, not really comprehending why it's so conveniently placed. _

_"Shut up! Shut up!" He's screaming at her now as the scissors dig into the fabric. She refuses to listen, her wails continuing to root her to where she stands. _

_He can't do everything, is what he wants to say. That he needs her help, is what he wants to yell. But he doesn't. _

_Minutes later, a police officer is pulling him from the ground, off of his father. The blood rushes up through his body and into his ears. He breathes heavily, Sarah's screams become a muted wail. The police officer grabs at his shoulders and shakes him, calling his name. _

_"Sam! Sam! _Sam!_"_

He wakes with a start, his sheets sticky with sweat. His racing heart begins to slow as he takes in his surroundings. He's in his bedroom, alone. His comforter is tossed to the floor, his sheets are tangled at his waist and his pillows seem to have been punched in his sleep. It's rare that he manages to sleep at all in July, even 25 years later. Some years it feels as though it happened just yesterday. Others, it's just hard. Not terrible. Just hard.

He thought this year would be easier. It's been 25 years, after all. Last night he refused to let Marlo stay over, he's certain she must have wondered why. But he wasn't ready to explain it all to her, nor did he care to. He considered that it was problematic, but shoved the thought away. Instead, he prepared for the worst and told her he needed some time alone.

Last year on July 15th, he'd awoken to Andy shaking him. Her eyes were wide with worry and she'd gently brushed away the wetness that hung at the corners of his eyes. He was most startled by her silence. He remembers that only because she's usually always asking questions. Always talking. He loved that— loves that about her. But that morning, twelve months ago, she was silent. She held his hand and waited. Waited for him to tell her what was wrong, why he'd been crying out in his sleep and screaming for help.

But he never did. Andy is always asking the questions; Sam just never really knows how to explain.

He never does have to explain though. Somehow she finds out. He figures that she did a little digging, asked her father for some information, maybe borrowed a computer in the detective's wing. He thinks that maybe he should've been mad that she didn't leave well enough alone. But he isn't. In fact all he felt was relief. Relief that he didn't have to explain how fucked up his family was and is.

He wipes the sweat from his brow and calls in a personal day. He can tell by Frank's voice that he should've seen this day coming. He makes up an excuse just to have a reason to give and hangs up the phone. He doesn't care if he buys it or not, Frank's seen his personnel folder; it's all there in a black and white photocopy of a crime scene report.

…

Andy stands at his door and debates ringing the bell. She knows that he probably had a restless night and she hates to wake him if he did manage to fall back asleep. But she's brought coffee. It's warm in her hand and she thinks he'll appreciate it. But she's scared. No, nervous.

She knows July 15th is hard for him. She found out a year ago after a fitful night by turning over a few stones and asking around. People at 15 Division care about Sam Swarek, enough that they easily revealed what had happened. She figures that they thought she could help in some way. Andy had wished she could, still does, but thinks that maybe she can't.

How do you help someone that doesn't want to be helped?

Fear gets the best of her and she puts the cup down on the step. It's out of the way enough that he won't kick it if he leaves, but obvious enough that he'll see it.

She returns to her squad car. Just as she buckles her seatbelt she notices movement at his door. The screen door opens and it's Sam. He's wearing a hooded sweater and Andy thinks to herself that he's overdressed for the summer heat.

He sees the cup of coffee and picks it up. He's startled by its warmth and cocks his head to the side when he notices what is written on the cup. He looks to the street and sees her watching him.

Sam nods and raises the cup in thanks. Andy wants to jump out and give him a hug, tell him that it'll be okay and that she's there if he wants to talk. He won't want to talk, but she wants to offer, just the same.

Instead, she gives a wave, starts the car and pulls in to traffic.

_...To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you so much, lovely readers for the reviews and follows. I have to say that I'm finding writing this story illuminating. Sam Swarek is one colourful, haunted character I must say. I feel like the writers and Ben Bass himself have been throwing clues at us since S1.

As always, please review if you can. It is literally like fuel to me when I'm writing.

* * *

-2-

The cemetery is a short walk from his house. He rarely visits it, choosing only July 15th to cross its manicured grass to the stone carving that marks where his father lays. Pretending it doesn't exist helps him forget what happened on that one stupid day which fucked up three lives.

Gavin Swarek lays between Frances Hartwell and James Norwell. He feels silly, but he taps their headstones as if to say hello.

Turning to his father's, he takes in a deep breath and dares himself once again to meet the ghosts of his own past.

_What lies behind him and what lies before him are tiny matters compared to what lied within him. _

He shakes his head, even at thirteen he saw through the bullshit epitaph.

"Is your hair getting greyer Sammy?" A familiar voice teases. His face lightens and he turns to find his sister standing behind him.

"Sarah!" His arms reach around her torso and he pulls her against him tight, lifting her a bit off of her feet.

"You're looking good!" What he thinks is that she looks fantastic. She's out of bed, in jeans and a t-shirt and her hair is washed. "What are you doing here?"

She laughs and bats her hand against his arm. "Same as you, nerd." Her face darkens slightly. "Long time though, right?" The question is loaded and doesn't require an answer. He's been putting off seeing her for some time. St. Catharine's is barely 2 hours away and yet he can never really bring himself to visit her. Then there's the anniversary of… well, everything. It's indeed been a long time.

He nods instead and looks away. Partly out of shame, partly because he's run out of things to say.

Sarah wraps her arm around his waist and leans in to him. She's always been forgiving, even when he can't forgive himself. He rests a hand on her shoulder and pulls her tight against his side. They stand like that for a while, staring at the grave marker. It's comforting and in those few minutes Sam feels slightly more normal; like his freak show of a life didn't actually happen.

…

They spend much of the morning and afternoon together. She tells him about her recent requests to speak to the psychology students at McMaster and he tells her about his work as a detective. He manages to avoid mentioning his love life and eventually she catches on.

"What happened with Your Rookie?" Sarah likes to call her that in part because that's how Sam first introduced her. _"Sarah, this is my rookie,"_ he'd said. Sarah had smiled and asked if that was really her name, having noticed the extra emphasis her brother had put on the_ my_.

But it's been months since she's even talked to her brother and she's not even sure if his rookie is still a rookie. He gives a sheepish shrug and tells her that "things happened" and that he's dating someone else now. She pushes for more information, wants to know if it's serious, does she have a name?

Instead, he shakes his head. She doesn't have a name? It's not serious? It's not important? Sarah raises her eyebrows but says nothing. He's speaking an unspoken language, one she's managed to decipher years ago. She nods her head and it's understood.

It's complicated. It's not worth it. This conversation is over.

He walks her to Union Station and buys her a Cinnabon. They grab a seat in the little restaurant as they wait for the track numbers to be posted.

"How's the… other stuff?" He manages to ask at last. She takes a bite from her fork and offers her plate toward him. He shakes his head. "Detective diet," he says, as though it's an actual thing.

"The other stuff is still there." Sarah shrugs her shoulders. "Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes it's not," she adds cryptically. He nods, understanding. He remembers the good days as much as the bad ones.

There's a shuffle of feet and movement from behind them as commuters start to rush toward their lines. "That's me, I think." She slings her purse over her shoulder and stands, pushing her half eaten Cinnabon across the table.

"You're too skinny, Sammy." With a smile, Sarah leans down and kisses the top of her brother's head. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Silent, he nods. He knows he can do better. They only really have each other.

…

The call comes across the radio at a little past 5pm. There's a medical emergency on the Lakeshore West line. Andy is the first on scene and is helped onto the train from track level by the conductor.

"She just started screaming," he explains, pushing her through the throng of rush hour commuters. "Someone pushed the emergency stop bar and we called the police."

There's a light murmur from the annoyed passengers, but Andy doesn't hear any screaming. "And now?"

He looks back at her. "You'll see."

When they reach the far end of the train, Andy pushes past a circle of passengers and comes face to face with the medical emergency. Sitting in the fetal position is a woman, a mess of dark hair piled atop her head. She's rocking back and forth, head tucked into her arms.

"Ma'am?" Andy asks, tentatively, crouching down to her level. "I'm Officer McNally. What's your name, ma'am?"

"Here." A passenger pushes a purse at Andy. "She threw it at me before."

Andy nods and digs inside for the wallet. She pulls out a driver's licence and her eyes widen when she sees the name.

"Sarah? Sarah Swarek is that you?"

_... To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Happy Canada Day! Enjoy your poutine as you wear your toque and sit on your chesterfield. This chapter has been brought to you by the letters X, Y and Zed. :-P

As always, reviews are welcome!

* * *

-3-

Darth Vader is about to finally defeat Luke Skywalker when the phone rings. He looks up at his mother, who wipes her hands on a dishtowel before lifting the phone off of the receiver. The cord doesn't stretch very far, so she's forced to turn her back on her son.

"Yes, this is Mrs. Swarek," he hears her say. He pushes R2D2 across the carpet and moves Luke closer to the edge of the coffee table. "I don't understand." Her words have become curt and demanding. He looks up from the floor at his mother, Darth Vader tight in his hand.

"What do you mean? What's happened to Sarah?" She breaks at last, voice cracking and collapses onto a chair. Unattended, Luke Skywalker falls to the carpet.

When Sarah finally comes home, he offers her his Darth Vader. It's his favourite toy and when his mother tells him that Sarah's not feeling well, he hopes it'll make her feel better. It doesn't.

He later learns that it's not a stomach flu that she's suffering from, but something greater. He's only nine and it doesn't all make sense. But he sees the bruises on her legs, the welt at her wrist and the purple splotch that surrounds her eye and he comes to his own conclusions. Some of the kids at school call her a whore and he ploughs into them, fists flying. It's his first suspension, but it won't be his last.

His mother begs him to help her out; to be good, to stop getting in trouble. His dad is still at Maplehurst and she has her hands full as it is with Sarah. He promises to try and he does, but his absences catch up with him and he's sent to an alternative school for a semester. He makes a few friends there, but they're more hardened and have been there longer. They push him in one direction and he remembers the promise he made his mother. He tells them thanks, but no thanks and survives the semester by telling lame jokes they find hilarious.

Every kid that is released from the program is spoken to by a local police officer. It's a preventative initiative cooked up under the Young Offenders Act. For most, it's ineffective. But when he's pulled into the room an officer with greying hair looks at him and says, "you can do better, you know." And something clicks.

He's not entirely sure why, but he spends the next few years trying to be better. Sarah has months where she's great and they are enrolled in day camp at the local rec center. But one year she relapses on a bus ride to the Beaches and they're pulled from camp before he's really had a chance to make any friends.

Years later, on July 18th, when he's tossing his magic kit into the trash, the doorbell rings. He answers it and finds two officers wanting to talk to him about what happened three days earlier. He doesn't want to talk. What's there to say? He wants to clam up, cross his arms against his chest and stay silent. But his mother would say he's being defiant. He wants to not care, but he does. He now counts the people he loves on two fingers and makes an effort to answer all of the officers' questions.

…

The shrill ring of Sam's cell phone wakes him from a nap. He curses and sits up on his couch, his neck sore from the angle he'd been sleeping on. The screen tells him it's Andy and he briefly hopes she's not calling to talk about what day it is.

"Hey," he says, his voice is rough from sleep. "I'm off today."

"Sam?" She sounds panicked. "I know. I'm with your sister." He jumps to his feet, phone pressing harder against his ear. His eyes scan the room for his shoes.

"What do you mean? I sent her home. She was on the train." His words come out rushed, an incoherent jumble.

"I know. I know. Listen, I'm at St. Pat's. There was a…" she pauses and tries to find the right word. "An incident," She says at last. "Everything is fine. She's fine. They're going to keep her for observation."

"I'm on my way," he says, grabbing his keys from the hook by his door. "Stay with her if you can, okay?"

"I'll try."

…

When Sam finally arrives at the hospital he can't find Andy. The volunteer at the front desk isn't able to locate Sarah, her name hasn't been registered in the system yet. He grunts in frustration and wonders if he can search Toronto's largest hospital single-handedly.

He pounds his fist on the counter and demands to speak to someone, anyone in charge. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a security guard moving toward him. He's about to tell him to get the fuck away when Andy turns the corner and passes the guard by.

"There you are!" The security guard eyes her carefully. "He's with me," Andy says pointedly, hand at her holster. Her police uniform stops him from questioning her further and he nods instead, stepping back into his station.

"Where is she?" He asks, following Andy's quick steps toward the elevator.

"They've got her on the fourth floor right now. It's—"

"The psych observation ward," he says, finishing her sentence. He nods his head. "I know."

Andy takes an audible breath, but says nothing. The elevator doors open and she enters with Sam close at her heels.

"What happened anyway?" He asks as the doors close behind them, his words rushed and whispered.

"The passengers said she just started screaming. No one really picked up on why."

Sam considers this for a moment and then replies with certainty, "It could've been anything." He refuses to meet Andy's gaze. "The screeching breaks. Kids laughing. Hell, someone cutting something with a pair of scissors could've done it." She watches him and thinks he's thought about this before, that he's paid attention to his sister's triggers and has them memorized. "I should have seen this coming. She was too together, she—"

"Sam-" Andy cuts him off and reaches for his hand. "She's fine." Her words silence him and he looks down at her hand in his. He sighs heavily as the doors open. Neither moves. Instead, Sam nods, looks up at her and says softly, "I know."

Andy tightens her grip, reassuring him. The corners of his eyes crinkle and she notices for the first time that his eyes seem to speak of decades' worth of worry.

* * *

**A/N:** In Ontario we have "alternative" schools. These are schools for kids who can't "handle" (for a variety of reasons) regular day school. Typically kids who've either had absenteeism issues or criminal deviancy might be found there. Each school board calls it by a different name, but generally they're known as "alt ed or alternative schools."

Also, for those outside of Toronto, the Beaches is actually a place. I know Sam said "...the beach" and it is entirely possible he was referring to some other beach, but I chose to reference the Beaches area (it's official name is "The Beach"). I couldn't bring myself to call it "The Beach" because to most people it's "The Beaches" and it just sounds wrong to my ears. So apologies to those from "The Beach" who prefer it that way. ;-)


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I do enjoy telling Sam's history a little too much. There's probably something wrong with me that I keep torturing him so! LOL In any case, there's about 2 more chapters to come. Hope you're enjoying.

Side note: I've mentioned it before in this story, but it's referenced again in this chapter. CAM-H is a mental health hospital in Toronto (Centre for Mental Health and Addiction). I realize the acronym is off, but that's what it's known by: CAM-H.

* * *

-4-

"Where is the femur located?" His mother asks, eyes peering over the top of an eleventh grade biology textbook.

"In the leg," he answers smugly, hitting the kitchen table as though it's a buzzer. She nods, pleased. There is a faint sound of fireworks popping outside, but both ignore it. "And how many bones are there in the human body?"

He's about to answer when there's a loud bang and glass shatters around him, startling him. He sees his mother jerk in her chair and he turns to look for the source of the blast. Something slides against his face and he bats his hand at it. He sees that his fingers are red and it dawns on him that it's blood.

He hears his name being called, muted through a ringing in his ears he's just noticing and he sees his textbook lying on the floor, spread open against his mother.

"Sam!" The voice becomes clearer, and in a second he's next to her, pulling the textbook away. There's a sharp pain in his knees as he kneels against the glass, but his mother is bleeding from her shoulder and he wills his own pain away. He puts pressure on her wound, his own hands becoming bloodied. She grabs at his arm, panicking as she sees the blood and calls his name over and over.

"I'm fine. I'm fine!" He says, his voice louder than he'd intended. And he is; the blood must've been his mother's. He just needs her to stop talking. Sam moves for the phone and realizes that the cord doesn't reach. He's going to have to release the pressure and moves her hand from him and places it on her wound. "I have to call 9-1-1," he explains, calmer than even he expects. "Keep your hand here. Please?"

She nods, he can tell that she's beginning to pass out. His fingers shake as he dials and he nearly rips the phone from the wall trying to stretch it closer to her.

The ambulance and police arrive quicker than expected. The EMTs assure him that it's just a grazing and an officer offers to drive him to the hospital. In the car, he tells him they're lucky they weren't sitting a foot to the left and then says that maybe they should consider moving. "Malvern is only getting worse. Damn gangs." Sam barely hears him and thinks it's lucky his sister had been admitted to CAM-H again earlier that week to have her meds restructured.

The officer asks if there's anyone he wants him to call. Sam shakes his head, looks down at his hands in his lap and says instead, "206."

He looks over at the sixteen year old, confused. "What?"

"There are 206 bones in the human body."

…

When Jeannine Swarek dies 19 years later, her son is finishing a late shift. He gets a call on his cell phone and his reaction is muted. He's been expecting it for some time, she'd been sick and a hard life was finally taking its toll. His rookie stops him in the hall outside of the locker room and invites him to the Penny for a beer. He's forced to turn her down without giving a reason and sees disappointment flash briefly across her face. Her response is moderated, aloof even. She's pretending she doesn't care when really she does. Sam lowers his eyes and offers a rain check. She accepts, but she has a boyfriend and he doubts he'll get a chance to fill it any time soon anyway.

He needs to go to Hamilton to collect his mother's ashes. Jeannine Swarek was always ready for the worst and a funeral home is already taking care of everything. He'll pick up Sarah and together they'll find the farm his mother grew up on in Welland and say their final goodbyes. As he unlocks his truck a thought dawns on him: he now counts the people he loves on one finger.

…

Sam initially refuses to go into the ward, choosing instead to sit in its waiting area. He's silent and Andy wonders briefly if she should say anything. She's not sure what she can offer beyond "she'll be okay" and decides for once it might be better to say nothing at all. Instead she looks at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to be discreet. He breathes heavily as though he's trying to regain control of himself and stares at the wall in front of him.

She wants to ask him about the scars, but something stops her. She's afraid of revealing what she knows, afraid of how Sam might react. She thinks her fear is unfounded, but she worries just the same. While she's only seen glimpses here and there through the most casual and indirect references, she believes that Sam is fiercely protective of his family.

"She's going to be fine," Sam says at last, echoing Andy's words from the elevator and she turns toward him, surprised. "Every so often something happens and…" He swallows and looks at her. "This happens." He waves his arm, motioning into the air. "She'll be fine." He says again, as though trying to convince himself.

Andy nods, but remains silent.

He lowers his eyes and clasps his hands together. "Maybe I should go in," he says. He can't meet her eyes and she wonders why.

She nods again and waits for him to stand. When he finally does, she opens her mouth to ask him and thinks better of it. Instead she says, "I've got to return to the station anyway, file my reports and… you know." She cringes at how awkward she sounds and hopes he doesn't notice.

A thousand thoughts race through his mind at once and Sam thinks to himself that he should invite her into the ward. That maybe at last he wants to show her his life and let her understand. Something inside of him screams to let her cross the threshold into his world. He shifts his jaw and readies himself, but words fail. When at last he says, "I'll see you at work tomorrow, then?" he mentally kicks himself for his cowardice.

"Sure, yah." She begins to step away. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He watches her walk toward the elevator and shaking his head, he buzzes for admittance into the ward. Sam identifies himself and a nurse escorts him toward Sarah's room.

She's detailing the procedures taken by the EMTs and doctors and questions Sam about Sarah's medication. He rattles off a list he's committed to memory and asks how long she'll be admitted for.

"A few days at least," the nurse says. "She's doing okay and is sleeping right now. It seems to be just a momentary setback. The doctor does want to speak to you about the scars on her wrist, however."

He nods, it's not the first time a doctor has been curious about them. "The police officer noticed them as the EMTs were putting her in—"

He puts his hand on the nurse's elbow and stops her. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"The police officer—" She looks at her notes. "Officer McNally noticed the scars on Miss Swarek's wrists."

Sam looks back toward the closed doors to the ward. It's as though the world has spun out of its axis. Blood rushes to his ears and he hears nothing of what the nurse is saying. With a million thoughts running through his head at once, his feet take over and he's pushing his way through the doors to the ward, back from where he'd come from.

"Andy!" He calls out once he's in the hall, hoping she hasn't already gotten on the elevator. "Andy?" He races toward the elevator and hurriedly presses at the arrows. The doors slide open and he's faced with an empty car.

_It's too late._ The words are a whisper in his imagination; they hang in the air and taunt him. _ You've always been too late. _

He realizes that he shouldn't be making rash decisions at a hospital and that there are psychologists mere feet away who would probably find what he was about to do completely irrational and ill-timed. But he's through with timing. He pulls his phone from his pocket and hits the 6th number on his speed dial.

He's done with being late.

_... To be continued..._

Reviews are always welcome!


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N:** The Past Sam portion of this story was originally supposed to be in chapter 6, but I thought it fit better here, so I swapped it out. You'll notice it's a bit longer than the other chapters (a good 1000+ words longer), but I didn't think you'd mind ;-) Next chapter, everything comes to a head! Stay tuned!

Side note: Bier Markt and Brick Street Bakery both exist. Brick Street was rated as having the best pastries in town, so that's why it got the name drop. Bier Markt, I will caution, is not that expensive, but I thought Sam & Andy would equally enjoy going to a place that had over 150 beers to choose from.

* * *

-5-

Sam's in Police Foundations at Seneca when Sarah decides to finally broach the topic. He's in the middle of a chin up in front of the television when she presses mute on the remote and says, "You never bring anyone over."

He laughs and pulls himself up into sitting position, resting his arms on his knees. "What do you mean? Oliver and Jerry were here last Friday for the game."

She rolls her eyes. "That's not what I mean. You never bring _girls_ over."

Sam considers this for a minute and realizes that she's right. While he has dated, even some somewhat seriously, he's yet to bring anyone home to meet Sarah. He's stunned that she's noticed and acknowledges that he wasn't sure if he should. For years he's harboured a belief that no woman would ever want to be apart of the complexity that is his family life, that he'd just given excuses upon excuses as to why they could never come over. He suspects it's partly to blame for the lack of longevity in all those relationships.

When he's finally serious about a girl again, he decides to give it a chance. Marianna is smart, beautiful and a broadcasting major. They meet at Jerry's Superbowl Party and Sam thinks for once he might actually like football. The Packers win over the Patriots and it's the only thing he remembers from that game as he spends much of it talking to Marianna. They date for a few months and he puts off telling her the sorry details of his life growing up.

He decides to surprise Sarah by bringing Marianna to their apartment. She's bringing Sarah's favourite Brick Street Bakery pastries and he thinks that for once he's made the right decision.

What Sam is unaware of is that in those months while he's been enjoying the lightness of a new relationship, his sister has been suffering anew. She's been living in an endless darkness that she hides from her brother. Her reactions and interactions are all a facade and by a terrible coincidence it bubbles to the surface the same day Sam brings Marianna to the apartment.

She's first to notice the blood on the kitchen floor. She's also the one to call 9-1-1 while he holds washcloths in place to stem the bleeding. When the ambulance arrives, she's the one to hold the apartment door open for the EMTs. At the hospital, she passes him a pastry and tells him that everything will be alright. When he tells her she should go home and get some sleep, she promises to call him.

She doesn't.

He sees her at school and Marianna weakly asks after his sister, apologizing for not calling and checking in. He's quick to understand that she's giving him the brush off and tells her that everything is fine and maybe they'll catch up later. She nods, but they both know: it's over.

Sam starts to think that maybe he was right all along.

…

Sam hates doing rotation at the local schools. Inevitably two questions always get asked: "Can I see your gun?" and "Have you ever killed anyone?" When he tells them no on both accounts, there's always a look of disappointment as though they'd hoped he'd pull out a loaded weapon and show them how he's killed someone. It's why he practically sells his soul to any officer that is willing to swap with him.

When he and his rookie get assigned to Parkdale Collegiate he's at the ready, offering Williams some of his infamous gourmet pizza for a job swap. But McNally gets wind of it and is quick to stop the deal. She wants the experience and thinks it'll be fun. Williams raises her eyebrows at McNally's optimism. She knows what Sam is in for and pats him on the shoulder sympathetically. "Good luck with that one," she says with a wink.

On the car ride over, he decides to take a chance and makes a bet with Andy. He knows he'll win even though she doesn't. It's bold, but teaming with her that day has put him in a good mood and he takes the risk. "I bet you one kid will ask to see your gun," he says with a smirk as he pulls into the parking lot.

She's disbelieving and accepts the bet. "What'll I get if I win?" She asks. He offers her his tickets to tomorrow's Leafs game. "Done," Andy says, gleefully. Luke, after all, loves the Leafs.

"What if you win?" She asks. "Not that I think you'll win."

Sam pretends to consider what he wants as his victory prize, but he already knows what he's going to ask for. "You come with me to dinner. At the Bier Markt."

"You want me to buy you dinner?" She asks, mouth agape. She knows the price point at Bier Markt and it's not for the faint of heart, especially with some of the more specialty beers.

"I didn't say that," he says, his face measured as he climbs out of the car.

Andy cocks her head to the side and tries to understand what he's offering. "You want me to go to dinner with you? That's it?" She stares at him over the top of the squad car, disbelieving.

"That's it."

She narrows her eyes, suspicious of his deal. But Luke's working late that night and she's admittedly creeped out by being alone in his empty place and so she accepts. "Should we shake on it?" She asks, following him toward the school.

"Nope. You're a woman of your word, McNally," he says as he opens the front doors. "I know you won't let me down."

…

When Sarah meets Andy McNally for the first time it's by sheer luck. She's in Toronto speaking at the university as a last minute replacement for another speaker. The organizing department offers to take her out for dinner at a nearby restaurant. Needing to change out of her travel clothes, she agrees to meet them there.

At the Bier Markt, the hostess tells her that her party hasn't arrived yet and seats her at the bar while she waits. She's looking over the beer menu when she's startled to hear her brother's gruff voice ordering his favourite drink next to her.

"Sammy?" She laughs and lightly punches his arm in greeting. He turns to her, stunned and she notices that he seems to be looking between her and a woman at a nearby table. She grins, points her finger at her brother's chest and whispers. "Are you on a date?"

Refusing to answer, Sam instead questions why she's in town.

"Don't avoid my question, Sammy! Tell me, are you on a date?" She leans forward in her seat, hand at her chin. "Who is she? How do you know her? Where did you meet?" Her series of questions are quickly interrupted as the young woman sees her talking with Sam and approaches.

"Are you going to introduce me to your friend?" Sarah says teasingly, placing extra emphasis on the word _friend._

"Sarah, this is my rookie," he says quickly, refusing to meet his sister's suspicious glare.

"Is that really her name? _My Rookie_?"

Andy smiles and offers her hand. "Andy McNally," she says. "Sam's my training officer."

She raises her eyebrows and looks at her brother. "Really? Training officer, huh?"

Ignorant of the secret language passing between the siblings, Andy continues, "Yeah. I lost a bet. He won."

Sarah nods, eyes still firmly on Sam. She knows her brother never bets if he's going to lose. "I bet he won," she says, a hint of laughter in her voice. "I'm Sarah Swarek, by the way. Sam's complicated older sister," she adds to further torture her brother. Andy's eyes light up at the recognition of her name and Sarah's mildly surprised that he's mentioned her before.

"You're Sam's sister?!" Andy says. "You have to tell me what he was like as a kid. Was he all broody and serious then too?"

Sarah's about to answer the question when she notices her dining party arriving at the door, sparing Sam further embarrassment. She gathers her coat and rises from her seat. "Andy McNally, Sam's Rookie," she says with a twinkle in her eye. She thinks to herself that she really shouldn't torture her brother so much. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Hopefully I'll see you again soon. And next time I'll tell you all about his obsession with Star Wars." She turns to Sam and raps the back of her hand on his shoulder. "Soon, okay?" She says with a smile as she pulls him into a hug. "I like her," she whispers into his ear.

…

Sarah wakes up with a start, drawing in a huge gasp of air. She feels a hand clasp over her own and opens her eyes to find her brother in a chair next to her. She feels the familiar sensation of cobwebs in her mind and she works to clear them.

"Hey," she says groggily, blinking against the harsh lights of the room. "Where am I?" The faint smell of hand sanitizer and the starchy feel of the sheets against her legs answer her question, but she wants to be certain. She wants an exact answer that only Sam can provide.

"Fourth floor, St. Pat's," he says. She closes her eyes. _Of course. _ She should have recognized the view of the ravine and the greenery of the trees off the rolling hill. St. Pat's psych ward is renown for offering a soothing landscape to its patients. When she opens her eyes again she notices the darkening hue to the horizon and realizes that her earlier sleep has cost her a few hours. The lingering exhaustion that clings to her muscles tells her that she was sedated. "You had a… " Sam pauses trying to find the right words. "An episode… on the train."

She sighs. Embarrassment grips at her chest. She knows that by now she should be less embarrassed, but she can only imagine what people think of her, what Sam must endure each time it happens. "Sorry about this," she says sheepishly. "I hate it as much as you do."

"I know," he says simply, squeezing her hand. "Don't worry about it."

Sarah sits up the bed and Sam hands her a glass of water. He's had it at the ready as he knows her medication makes her mouth feel like she's eaten cotton. She takes a heaping gulp and thanks him.

"How much of a disaster was I?" She asks.

"You stopped a commuter train. So maybe a six?" He offers with a smile. "But the Go train is always late, so I don't think you caused too much of a problem."

"Do you know what the trigger was?"

He shakes his head. "The officer that found you said they weren't sure what set you off."

Sarah, frustrated, brings the balls of her palms to her eyes. "When's it ever going to end? I mean, I'm not fucking 13 anymore." Sam remains silent, he knows her frustration and experiences much of it himself in watching her go through it each time. "Did they give me the usual cocktail?"

"Yeah. They also wanted to know if you've been taking your meds properly."

She pulls the pillow further up her back and faces her brother. "Of course I've been taking them properly. How long are they keeping me for?"

"They said a few days. They want to make sure your meds are balanced. The usual. And the doctor wants to talk to you about those." He taps at her wrist, the scars are faint white lines now, a distant reminder of a difficult past.

Sarah nods and looks down at her hands. A thought occurs to her and she looks to Sam and says, "Wait, you said they called the cops, right?"

"Yah," Sam replies, avoiding her eyes.

She slaps her hand to her forehead. "Oh god! I'm so sorry. It was your division wasn't it?"

He shakes his head. "It was, but don't worry about it."

"What do you mean, don't worry about it? By tomorrow they'll all be talking about your crazy sister."

"They won't," Sam says simply.

"Of course they will. It happened when you were in college. It'll happen again."

"Sarah," he takes hold of her hand and tries to soothe her. "Trust me. It won't." After a beat, he continues, deciding he might as well tell her why he's not worried. "McNally was the one who got your call. She won't say anything."

"McNally?" She asks, surprised. "Your rookie?" He nods, his eyes still avoiding hers. She relaxes into her pillow. "Well that's lucky, isn't it?" He shrugs his shoulders in response and she widens her eyes, surprised. "So you've told her then? About me, mom, dad… the whole thing?" Sam shakes his head.

"Sammy!" She grabs at her pillow from behind her and tosses it at her brother. He manages to deflect the projectile with his arm.

"What the hell, Sarah?!"

"Why haven't you told her? After everything, after all this time? Why?"

"Because." His response is simple and once the words are out of his mouth, they feel familiar. He narrows his eyes and looks past Sarah, trying to recall why the word feels so familiar.

"Because? Because why?"

"Because it's not that easy." His eyes return to his sister, his voice is measured. He needs her to understand it's much more complicated then she can even imagine. "I'm working on timing."

"Why? Fuck timing! I thought you were in love with this girl, weren't you? I mean I get that you're with the new one, but you used to talk about your rookie all the damn time. It was actually pretty annoying. And all of this," she motions to the hospital room. "It really should be that easy. You hold on too tight to things, Sammy. You told Oliver and Jerry, for crying out loud!"

"That's different. With Andy I can't just jump in with both feet anymore. It's been too long. I'm not sure even she wants in."

"What makes you say that? You trusted her enough to not spread what happened today around."

"I know." In contrast to his sister, Sam's voice is calm, almost whispered. He's trying to reason with her and make her understand. "I hear what you're saying, Sarah. Don't think that I don't. It's just that Andy and I have fucked this up so badly that I'm not entirely sure it's repairable. I don't think telling her about all this that we've been through—" He motions at the room as though it holds the ghosts of their tortured pasts "—is going to change anything."

"You're an actual idiot, you know that, right?" Sam tilts his head to the side and looks at his sister, surprised by her comment. His sister is always frank with him, but rare is the day that she calls him an idiot. "What's that stupid saying Oliver has? Change or die? That's it, right?" She stares hard at her brother, her face demanding his attention. "Listen to me, Sammy: Change or die."

"Why?"

"Because. Because Sam Swarek fixes things. When things go wrong, he fixes them. And the only way to fix whatever the fuck you did, is to change."

_Because._

He looks at his sister, his eyes becoming wide. He remembers where he's seen the word before, why it had seemed so familiar. In an instant, he's on his feet, startling his sister. "Sare— do you mind if I go? I'll come back tomorrow. Promise."

"Go? Why?" Her back stiffens, worried. "What's happening?"

"Everything is fine. I've… I've just got something to do."

"What the hell is so urgent?" She asks as he lays a kiss on her temple. "Just a second ago it was like you were about to set up camp…"

"Because." With that one word, he's out the door before she can have a chance to question him further. He knows the word won't mean much to her, but he'll explain later, when he's fixed everything. Because she's right. That's what he does, Sam Swarek fixes things.

_...To be continued..._

_Please leave a review if you can! _


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Well... this is it. I hope you've enjoyed the story. I must commend Ben Bass (and perhaps the directors of Rookie Blue), his face speaks a million words even though the script might not. Quite honestly, those little flashes were the inspiration behind each chapter.

_Side note:_ Aldermere mall (from "Heart & Sparks"), to my understanding, doesn't actually exist. Oliver name checked it, but I think it is a fictional location. Thus, I'm not entirely certain I'm even spelling it correctly. If it is a real place and I've spelled it incorrectly, please let me know!

* * *

-6-

When Andy tells him she loves him, he's ill prepared. He silently curses himself for not seeing it coming earlier; she'd been acting strange and secretive all day. He wants to return the gesture, wishes he can, but he's promised himself that he won't. The secrets of his family come first and being in a serious relationship only complicates things. The end result can only be painful for the both of them.

To his surprise, she smiles past his silence and laughs. She doesn't care that he won't return her overture. He'd have figured she'd get mad or at the least, annoyed. She's far from either and it gives him pause and he begins to reconsider his choices.

Weeks later he thinks he's ready to tell her everything: About his life growing up, his dad, his sister, his mother… and he begins to think that maybe everything will be okay if he does tell her that he loves her. He thinks she won't run, that she'd be the support he's always wanted; the functional in his disfunction.

He never gets his chance to tell her though because Jerry dies and a terrible pain curses through his body. He feels his friend's death in every way and it dawns on him that he wasn't there when his friend needed him most. Every fibre of his being burns in anger when he realizes that a simple decision cost him his best friend.

When he sees the bruises on Peck's face and the cuts on her lip and forehead, he's faced with the cruel reminder that it could have been Andy, but for a terrible twist of fate. And it hits him hard.

His stomach twists remembering the shootings at Supernova and at the Garrison Park rec center. He recalls the gut wrenching fear he had when he thought she'd never get out alive from the laundry mat at the Aldermere Mall. The what-if of it all frightens him to the core. With Jerry's death it dawns on him that where Andy McNally is concerned, he has been terribly, stupidly foolish.

He makes a hurried decision that he will never be careless with his heart again. He packs away his feelings for her like a box of discarded clothing and shuts her out almost immediately. She's quick to notice and eventually calls him on it. The compartmentalizing of his emotions allows him to be direct when he tells her that they can't be together. When she questions him, he finds an excuse that is somewhere between "I'm a broken mess" and "I couldn't bear it if anything were to happen to you." When he suggests that they could one day be friends again, it sounds hollow even to his ears. She tearfully refuses to accept it; she wants to fight for them, to work through it.

Like her declaration of love to him, he's again ill prepared. He doesn't expect her reaction, it doesn't go as he'd figured and he's left speechless. She's crying before him and it takes everything he has within him not to make it right again. But it's fight or flight. He makes a sacrifice and chooses the latter and climbs into his truck. He's a coward in that moment and knows it.

…

His emotions in the weeks that follow are difficult to control and they bubble to the surface when he sees her, panicked and holding a grenade, in the basement of the Royal York. He realizes almost instantly that he'd been fooling himself and that she'd been right about him. When his hands steady hers, he knows that he's ready to die for this woman. And it's then that he wishes there were enough words in the world for him to say what he wants to say and enough time to say it all.

But time runs out before he can find the words.

…

Change or die. It runs through his mind like a mantra. He knows he needs to change himself, that he needs to let go of the fear and insecurity if he wants to make things better.

The only reason he holds on tight is because he doesn't want people to get hurt. Of all people, he doesn't want _her_ to get hurt.

It has to count for something.

_Because. _He raises his fist and raps it against the wooden door.

…

Andy pulls a batch of cookies from the oven and places the pan on the counter. She burns the tip of her fingers when she grabs a hot chocolate chip cookie and stuffs it in her mouth. It's a little too hot, and she fans at her mouth, willing the heat to subside.

A knock sounds at the door and with a full mouth, she opens it. Her eyes widen when she sees who is before her.

"Thaaam?" She hastily swallows and tries again. "Sam? What are you doing here?"

"Are you eating?" He asks with a smile. He stays in the threshold of the door even though she's motioned him through.

"Cookies," she says sheepishly. "Just eating my—" she stops herself, pursing her lips shut. "Just cookies," she corrects.

"I brought something for you," He hands her a shoebox. "I should've showed it to you a long time ago."

She takes the box in her hands. Its edges are worn and there's a layer of dust on its lid. She gingerly wipes the dust away. "What is it?"

"My life." His answer is simple and he watches her as she looks up from the box, puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

"It's everything. Everything I should have told you." He clears his throat. "About me, that is. It's all there."

"In the box?" She looks back down at it, her touch becoming more gentle as she presses at a torn edge.

He nods. "I want you to look at it. There's articles, photographs. Anything… everything you want to know, I'll tell you. It's a mess, but…" He pauses, eyes fixated on Andy. "I'm a little bit messy too."

She's stunned. She moves her head, nodding ever so slightly. "We are." She's a bit breathless and her words betray the fact. "I mean, we both are. Messy, that is," she says, clarifying.

"I'll leave you with it then."

"No!" Her voice is hurried and she grabs his arm. "Stay. I want you to stay. Please." He searches her face and there's something in her eyes that he can't quite define. He yields and closes the door behind him, following her to her sofa. She takes a seat, but he's too nervous to sit and leans against some shelves instead.

Andy lifts the lid to the box and carefully pulls the pieces of Sam's life out. He's shaking and hides the fact by tucking his hands into his pockets. The room is silent but for the low hum of the refrigerator. It's been months since he's looked in the box and he's half forgotten what it contains.

She carefully touches the photographs of his father, taken from inside the family meeting room at Maplehurst. He can tell she recognizes the location, there's a particular uniformity to prison layouts. There's a newspaper clipping that asks for information on an attack on a thirteen year old girl at Rouge Park. The death certificates for both of his parents. She sees the yellowed, typed withdrawal papers from summer camp and a list of Sarah's medications which Sam has long since memorized.

Andy picks up his father's obituary, cut from the Toronto Star and she runs her finger across the date listed and looks up at him. "July 15th," she whispers. He nods. He knows she knows about the date and he awaits the questions. But none come, instead she gently begins putting each piece back into the shoebox. Everything he's wanted to say all along is squeezed into that one little shoebox.

At long last, she says, "Thank you."

A part of him wants to leave, to gather up the remnants of his tortured life and walk out the door. But he can't. There's one last thing that he needs to understand. There's one last thing that he needs to fight for.

"Why because?" He asks. His words are so softly spoken that Andy's unsure she heard him at all.

"What?" She looks up at him from the sofa, confused.

"This morning you wrote _because_ on the coffee cup. Why?"

"I—," she becomes silent, unable to answer the question. Her eyes fall to her hands and she occupies them by squaring the shoebox to a corner of her coffee table.

Sam takes a step toward her, hands still in his pockets. "Why, Andy?" He asks again. "I need to know."

She draws in a deep breath, steadying herself. "Because— Today. I just. I knew." She shakes her head. "I know. I figured after last year…" Andy looks up at him and he sees that look again in her eyes. The look that says that there's a million more things she means to say, the look that tells him that she's lying. Not about the date, probably not even about the intention behind the coffee, but about the meaning of the word.

"Okay."

She knows he sees through her lie and her face reddens. Sam so easily unnerves her and she stands to shake the nervousness away. "I made some cookies, did you want any?" Andy says awkwardly, changing the subject. She moves past him toward the kitchen, but he stops her when he says, "Because… I pushed you away."

Andy feels suddenly light headed and her heart leaps into her throat. She swallows hard and turns to face him. Shaking her head, she says, "No. Because… I ran away."

He moves closer toward her, his eyes black, his body mere inches from her own. "Because… I've been so stupid."

She shrugs her shoulders. She's never thought he'd been stupid, but she does want to ask about Marlo. She doesn't dare though. The air is charged between them and she's afraid of it dissipating. It's the closest she's felt to him in months and she feels as though she's barely holding on.

"It's over." His voice is barely above a whisper and she's not sure she hears him right. Thinks maybe that it's a figment of her imagination. That maybe she's misunderstanding him, misunderstanding the context. Thankfully he repeats himself, reassuring her. "Because… it's always been you."

His fingers lightly caress her cheek and she leans into the touch. She thinks to herself how much she's missed him and missed this.

Sam's hesitant, he doesn't want to press any more than she's willing. His body is taut and he's pretending he's more confident than he feels. When she leans into his hand, it's the confirmation that he'd been waiting for and he relaxes. He opens his mouth to say the words he's been bungling since the day he met her.

"Because… I…I…"

Her hand clasps over his and she finishes for him. "Because I still love you."

Sam nods. Relief washes over him and in a whispered voice, he agrees. "Because I still love you. Too."

There's a brief second where the air feels thick and neither is able to breath. The second passes and all hesitation, all worry disappears. Arms become tangled, lips intertwine and bodies press together. It's familiar and hurried; desperation and longing rocks them both.

She winds her arms around him, pulling him closer. He's hyperaware of where her fingers are, they clutch at his hair, pull at his t-shirt. He eagerly digs his fingers into her waist, inches them up her spine. It is as though their hands are possessed. She gasps as his hot breath meets her neck and she can feel him everywhere. When he hears her, he fists the fabric of her shirt, willing himself to keep grounded.

The back of her legs meet the edge of the sofa and they tumble upon it. In seconds it's skin, lips and a melee of limbs which tangle, sending decorative pillows to the floor.

Hours later, the glow of the sunrise through Andy's apartment window awakens Sam. He feels a warmth against him and finds Andy curled into him, asleep. Their clothes are strewn across the floor and under her coffee table. He smiles sleepily and pulls the sofa throw tighter over them. He presses his lips to the top of her head, grateful that there are now a thousand less words that need to be spoken and a thousand more yet to come.

He runs his hand along her bare shoulder and thinks for once that maybe July 15th isn't such a terrible day.

_**.:FIN:.**_

_Please leave reviews if you can! _


End file.
